


The Impermanence of Beauty

by t0talcha0s



Series: Permanence [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, M/M, Prequel to "you almost wish it was permanent", Rufioh and Equius are just hinted at they're not even name dropped, it's actually pretty shitty, like barely any but Caliborn's a fan so if that freaks you out, the way they meet that is, this is how they met, this one's from Caliborn's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3315296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was so fleeting, and you refuse to allow it to end. It was infuriating, pissed you off, he was going to be yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Impermanence of Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> AKA: in which Caliborn thinks Dirk is damn sexy when he'a bloody and wants to keep him for himself.  
> Golly fuck is it short, sorry.  
> Plot keeps wanting to be a home wrecker between exposition and I (i shan't allow it!). This is how I pulled myself through writers block so it's not the greatest.

It was winter when you found him. Air heavy with frozen breath and roads slick. Delicate icicles precariously balanced from bare tree branches. It was absolutely horrid. You'd always hated winter. You stared at the ground as you walked, hands shoved into pockets when something caught your eye. It was the colour that stood out to you, before the groan, bright red. Beautiful contrast against the perfect whiteness of the snow. Your eyes skimmed up the trail to find him, and wasn't he perfect like that. His lip was busted and nose dripping blood steadily. The perpetrator, or in this case the artist to such a lovely sight, walked away in a huff. The minute you saw him you were immediately intrigued. His white-blonde hair swept back into those strange militant spikes, sharp glasses meeting on the point of his nose. He was short, packed full of lean muscle, and pale as a sheet of paper. With freckles darting down every strip of skin you could see. He was holding his nose above his busted lip with one hand, brilliant crimson bleeding out onto his hand. You adored it. He was bent at the waist, in pain, as you walked towards him. He looked up at you, stupid shades sliding foreword to lend you the view of the most violently orange eyes you'd ever seen. (And oh how you love those eyes. They're simply beautiful when he's on the verge of begging for you.) 

"As much as i appreciate the, fairly creepy, honour of being eye-fucked, I'm kind of in pain here, so kindly screw the hell off." Oh that voice, it made you smirk wider. He was perfect. His skin a pure sea of white. Freckles peppered over his slightly hidden cheeks and under his baggy sweater, which hung off his shoulders, (Oh and that gave you the slightest glimpse of how very amazing he looked in your clothing, which is far too big for him.) You saw the hint of scars draping across his shoulder and chest. (They're simply lovely, you think. And you believe he doesn't have nearly enough, you'd like to give him more.) "I see you can't take a hint big guy." He moved to stand up, pushing his shades up as he did. He pulled his hand away from his nose to examine the blood. "I'm no damsel in distress, don't need anything, you can move along." 

"Well you look distressed." You could see him halt for a moment, pause and you could feel his eyes shift to you, even though they were hidden. (You had asked him later about it, he explained it was your voice. Musician's instinct to find the things that sound the most beautiful. Little did he know, to you that'd be him). He took a breath. 

"Yes, but i ain't." A southern slip up, (how he hates them.) "Don't need some body builder with a hero complex bugging me." 

"I'm not trying to save you." He wiped off his hand, and nose, with the sleeve of his sweater. 

"Then please do explain why you're here." His voice dripped sarcasm, it was infuriating, pissed you off, he was going to be yours. 

"I was going to ask if you needed a ride." You had shared a knowing smirk, and he nodded. 

That was only the first time, you made sure of that. You later found he been punched by his ex, (he thought you would be a simple rebound fling, how naive of him). You had been right of how beautiful he looked bloody, you make sure each and every time to leave him with a lasting bruise, or the wishful thinking of a scar. (Something to mark him as yours, because he is, truly, yours. You do have a penchant for marking your territory. Don't want him to stumble back to one of those boyfriends of his). You've become a master at finding him, a Where's Waldo of black shades and bright white skin. Fire orange eyes and constellations of freckles. You've found him many times, it's a fun challenge. 

A man with a bright red Mohawk, at a club, found mid-kiss with your blond. Hands resting on the sharp hips you adored as Dirk tilted up to kiss him in time with the music, and hypnotising sway of his hips. (Dirk had spotted you over his partner's shoulder, stopped in his tracks and a smirk twisted his lips away from Mohawk man.) 

A man with long black hair, glasses seemingly shattered but useable. He handled your boy timidly, stupid of him really, didn't know him near well enough to know the rough treatment Dirk adores. He was easy to push around to get to your blond, and you had made certain to be extra rough that night. 

Each and every man he's been with you've been sure to leave with a smirk, and a new way of looking at your Dirk. They've all known the name Caliborn English and you will make sure each boyfriend of his always will. Slowly, rendezvous by rendezvous, you've made him crave you. He'll always come back to you. He is yours. He always will be, and you shall make sure he knows it. 

Always only yours

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: the wildest stallions are the hardest to tame.  
> Comments and input are Always appreciated! If you have any good prompts or requests or just wanna stop by to say something I'm on tumblr at Barefootcosplayer.  
> Maybe a sequel (to you almost wish it was permanent) later? Don't hold me to it.


End file.
